


What Stays and What Fades Away

by thepalehorsevictoria



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:10:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepalehorsevictoria/pseuds/thepalehorsevictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian hasn't heard from Hawke in many months. After the world exploded in Kirkwall and the world fell apart, Hawke fled the city in hopes it would keep the Chantry from proclaiming an Exalted March against the mages there. It killed her to leave him, but the city was more important than their feelings.</p><p>It's been a little more than a year when Hawke finally resurfaces in Skyhold. After tangling with the Nightmare in the Fade (and surviving), Varric begrudgingly writes to Sebastian to let him know Hawke is alive and will be overwintering at the castle before heading on to Weisshaupt.</p><p>When the Chantry advisor to the Starkhaven throne suddenly arrives in Skyhold, no one is quite sure what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When it's over, you're the start

**_Would you leave me if I told you what I've done?_  
** **And would you need me if I told you what I've become?  
** **_'Cause it's so easy to say it to a crowd_**  
 **_But it's so hard, my love, to say it to you out loud_**

The Inquisitor and her guest “Lady Light” sat in the garden, contentedly picking at a game of chess in the afternoon sun. Brienne Trevelyan leaned back in her chair after she moved her knight in retreat. "Mm. Reminds me, I could probably go ask Blackwall if this sort of thing ever happened to the Wardens before." _Why hadn't I thought of that before_ , she wondered.

Halina Hawke looked up from the chessboard and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear.  ”You have a Gray Warden with you?"

"I do. Does a great job of hitting things."

Hawke smirked a little as she looked over the game board. "They do that pretty well." Carver always liked hitting things. Now he got to do that with more … purpose. The smirk faded when she was reminded that he was at risk now, too.  _I wonder where he is, Maker please, not Orlais._

A young page came running up to the gazebo with something in his hand, and he stayed hunched over after his bow to grab his knees and catch his breath.  The Inquisitor reached her hand out for what she presumed was a message for her, but the page turned to Hawke instead.  “My lady, there is a guest asking for you, at the gates.”

Hawke sat up straight, alarmed. “What? No one knows I'm here."  There was a _list_ of people who wanted to find her, many that wanted her dead.  

She turned to Trevelyan, eyebrows raised.  The Inquisitor shook her head—she hadn't told anyone. And not many people in Skyhold actually knew what the legendary Champion of Kirkwall even looked like, let alone the name she was traveling under.

The page held out the parcel in his hand. "He said to give you this." It was a silk scarf, long and brilliant red.

Hawke took a sharp, sudden breath and her eyes widened. "Sebastian." And then, after a realization, she gritted out, " _Varric_."  She stood up and pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair.  "I need to disappear."

Trevelyan nodded, and watched her guest run to a nearby door.  She stood, taking one last look at the game she was certainly going to lose, and turned to the page.  “Right.  Send for the war council, please.”

***

Lady Inquisitor Brienne Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi and Champion of the Blessed Andraste Herself stood in front of her throne in the main hall of Skyhold to receive her guest.  On the steps of the dais beside her stood her Commander, her Ambassador, and her Seneschal.  The doors creaked open and the crier's announcement resonated through the large space, but there was a slight hesitation in his wording. "His Royal Highness Sebastian Vael … Chantry Advisor to the Prince of Starkhaven." 

There was a low rumble of conversation among the other guests as the prince walked down the hall.  Unlike other guests of state, he had no attendants or advisors following him.  Candlelight and jewel tones of sunlight caught by the Ferelden stained glass danced on his otherwise gleaming white armor—everywhere except for the simple band of black linen wrapped around his arm, just above the couter, a symbol of mourning of Divine Justinia.  His bright blue eyes made quick contact with everyone on the dais, and Trevelyan blinked at their startling color. 

He bowed long and deep at the foot of the steps. "Lady Inquisitor.”

She smiled and nodded as best she could—she still wasn’t used to greeting heads of state as an equal.  “Welcome to Skyhold, your highness.”

“On behalf of my cousin His Most Gracious Majesty Prince Goran Vael, Starkhaven offers its support of the Inquisition and its mission.”  

“And the Inquisition is thankful for any assistance and alliance.”  Trevelyan gestured towards the door that led to Josephine’s office.  "Shall we visit in a more comfortable setting?"  

 ***

Cullen closed the door behind them, but no one readily took a seat. Trevelyan busied herself with pouring her guest some brandy. "I am told you are already acquainted with my advisors," she began.

Sebastian was already across the room and was at Josephine’s hand, softly kissing it in greeting.  "Lady Montilyet. An absolute pleasure to see you again. It's been ages." 

"Your highness. Halamshiral was not the same without you this year." Josephine was blushing, and was that a _giggle_?

"I'm sure you still danced marvelously. Even without your perfect partner." He smiled, still bent over her hand, lingering a moment before he turned his attention to the spymaster. "Sister Leliana. It's wonderful to see you again. He bowed deeply, and Leliana subtly bowed her head in receipt. Last time he saw her was in the company of the late Duke Prosper de Montfort, as the Inquisitor was told.  _With Hawke_.  "My heart still mourns Most Holy." He took her hand and bent over it, but did not kiss it.

Leliana smiled wistfully. "We all miss her," and then, "Welcome to Skyhold, your highness. Or is it Brother Sebastian now?"

"I … still hold the title in Starkhaven."

The commander chimed in from his post along the wall. "But doesn't it get confusing, then? With your cousin?"

There was a small wince, but Sebastian recovered quickly. "The title's used more when I travel alone. If I'm in Starkhaven, I am called Brother."

Josephine looked at Cullen. "It's … complicated." Her glare said she'd rather discuss it later, and Cullen rolled his eyes briefly.

Sebastian turned to him.  "It _is_ you, Knight Commander.  I haven't seen you since the day after—"

He was interrupted. "I left the templars, your highness. I serve the Inquisition now.  As commander of its armies"

The prince raised his eyebrows, but the look quickly vanished after he accepted the offered brandy.  He smiled at Trevelyan, and she could feel herself blush a little.  Neither of them noticed Cullen step away from the wall, watching them more closely.

Sebastian took a long sip to warm up from the ride in, and took a moment's pause.  "Thank you for your welcome, your Worship, but we all know why I'm here." His words were polite, but towards the end of the sentence, Brienne could tell he was a little tired. Still, she waited to hear him say it. "Where is Hawke?"

Trevelyan took a sudden breath. "She's not here, Sebastian."

The Prince scoffed quietly under his breath.  “Ser Tethras would not lie to me about this, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor said nothing. But Cullen, growing somewhat impatient, added, "She's gone down the mountain. To think, she said. She borrowed a horse from our stables and took a traveling meal, but she'll probably be back by nightfall. She didn't take everything with her."  

Sebastian was staring into his goblet. "Wouldn't be the first time she just took off," he said quietly.

"Perhaps your highness would stay with us for a while?" Josephine offered. "We might discuss Starkhaven's support of the Inquisition, and you could perhaps give our archers a lesson or two." She twirled her quill in her hand, nervously waiting. Trevelyan’s eyes flickered over to Cullen for a moment, whose lip twitched into a half smirk at the mention of the archers.

The Starkhaven lay brother looked up, taking in all of their faces, and then nodded. "I'll be happy to lend my assistance where I can, but please, let me know as soon as Hawke returns."

 ***

Halina Hawke finished her apple, chewing slowly as she stared out into the vasts of ice and snow of the Frostback mountains. The rock she sat on was getting a little too cold, even underneath the thick wool blanket she laid down. Her entire body was getting a little too cold, really. Perhaps she should see if she could have a thicker cloak made for the journey to Weisshaupt. It had been too long since she saw a Ferelden winter.

_Weisshaupt. Maker_. She had to go, but when she saw the red scarf again, a tiny voice in her head started to chime in with reasons not to go. _A well-written letter could do the trick, surely? Then I could just go home._ She was still tired. Nightmares of her last days in Kirkwall and the Fade never let her get a good night's sleep. She just wanted to go home.

_Problem is, where_ is _home now, exactly?_

After that day in the Gallows, Kirkwall became, as Bran put it, "a terribly delicate situation." Hawke thought back to the sight that ran a shiver up her spine — all the templars knelt before her amidst the fires and broken bronze. While she was still in some degree of shock, Aveline and Fenris went straight to work at securing the city as best they could in anticipation of more riots. Darktown and Lowtown filled up with skirmishes as outraged residents attacked the city guard and whatever templars they could find. If not for their exceptional training, there could have been many more casualties.

Hawke had refused any pomp and circumstance in her coronation. Bran had pointed out that there was plenty of gold to spend on it—probably because it was expected to be for Seamus to sit on the throne—but Hawke would have none of it, not when there was so much unrest. So the event took place on an Andsday afternoon with a scattering of nobles that insisted on being invited, and it was done in less than half an hour, and there she was, Halina Hawke, First of Her Name, Viscountess of Kirkwall.  And then she went back to work.

Almost immediately afterward, the death threats started multiplying.  _Your continued tolerance of rebelling apostates and abominations will be your city’s undoing, and Kirkwall will pay for your insolence_.  Nevermind that she had killed the most infamous one without hesitation.  

Then there were the attacks.  If she still had her companions and wasn’t a prominent head of state, she could of dealt with them herself, perhaps, but because _she_ was Viscountess the assassins also went after anyone protecting her, including six of Aveline’s best guards.  The night she woke to another death threat plunged into her nightstand with a dagger _right as she slept_ , she cried hard that night, harder than that day in the foundry, harder than that day in the Deep Roads.  And then she fled.

And now here she was. Aveline and Bran were doing a marvelous job of handling Kirkwall after she left, actually, and Varric promised her that the Amell house was put to good use as a hospital. But she knew she did not do right by Sebastian, and that was eating at her.

She really should have left a note.

Avoiding Weisshaupt was not an option, but for once, she wanted to stop and rest, and be able to curl up on a chaise in a library, and look up from her reading to see Sebastian's head bent down, concentrating on a letter. He'd feel her gaze, look up, and every time he smiled, a shiver raced down her spine.

But Carver needed this, too.

Hawke kept staring out into the white until the sun started to set and she could no longer feel the cold of her perch. She had to go back to the Inquisitor's keep, and she had to face him now. She mounted the destrier and started on an easy trot back to Skyhold, hoping that she could figure out what she'd say by the time she arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewritten after some edits. Thank you for your comments, gentle readers. They've helped.


	2. You are the silence in between

The Inquisition held Andrastian vespers at sunset in the garden. The routine was that the Inquisitor and her Inner Circle took up the small chapel, and would walk out to lead the rest of the congregation in the Chant, lighting candles as they went. When services were over and the elvhen, dwarven and Qunari contingents finished their services, the candles and lanterns lit the tables at supper.

Sebastian Vael joined Brienne, Vivienne, Josephine, Blackwall, Leliana, Cullen, Cassandra and Mother Giselle in the chapel, kneeling on burlap cushions in prayer. It was Andsday, so Mother Giselle turned to the Inquisitor to begin. Brienne Trevelyan nodded, hummed a little to get her bearings, and began singing the song they sang on another Andsday not too long ago. "Shadows fall, and hope has fled."

After the first verse, the others joined in, lighting their candles and lanterns and headed out the door. Their Starkhaven guest watched them for a moment, and took up his candle and joined in. Cassandra snapped her vision away from her candle to look at him, surprised by the rich, lilting voice like warm caramel. _Ohhh._ She remembered him now.

The lighting passed through the whole camp, who were lightly humming the song at this point as they headed up to supper. Sebastian hadn't seen anything quite as beautiful and inspiring as this in a long time, and he leaned against the wall, quietly smiling and taking it all in.

"Good to see you again, your highness." He knew that voice, and turned around to smile at Cassandra.

"Lady Pentaghast. Seeker," he added, and bowed to greet her.

Cassandra smiled a little. "It has been a while since your summer in Nevarra, hasn't it?"

"Aye. It's been," he hissed out a breath at the math, "Maker, at least twenty years." His blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "You look radiant."

She blushed a little and looked away, turning her right cheek to hide the larger scar on her left. "I heard you were past your old ways."

"I'm less of the wastrel you knew me as, if that's what you mean. But I still know beauty when I see it, and appreciate it. Just … with more clothing and less wine, I suppose?" He smiled, a dimple quirking up in his left cheek.

That made her laugh, just as the bell rang for supper. "Come, you must tell me more. Like why you're here."

Sebastian's brow furrowed a little, yet he offered his arm to her, and she took it. "You … don't know?" They walked towards the main hall.

"I know that you're after, ah, _Lady Light_." She hesitated, weighing her anger. "Varric felt that he was protecting her by hiding her whereabouts.  I had it out with him for that. But that doesn't completely explain why you're here.”  Their pace slowed as they ascended the stairs, the keep’s population slowly making it into the main hall.  “When I arrived in Kirkwall in '40 you were busy in Hightown with construction. What are you doing now?”  A beat.  “Are you trying to bring her back with you?"

Sebastian pressed his lips into a line, thinking. He wanted to find her safe, for one. And then he wanted an explanation. But he rarely thought of anything beyond that. Would Kirkwall still take their Viscountess? What would he do there? What would Starkhaven's future have for him?  His head started to fill up with questions, and distracted as he was, out of habit, he gently squeezed Cassandra's hand that was crooked in his arm, but he did not hear the sharp breath she took. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Neither of them saw the Amaranthine charger as it trotted into the gatehouse, or the rider that dismounted from it.

Andsday meant large roasts scattered amongst the tables. Sebastian was offered a seat at the Inquisitor's table, to her right. Her advisors and closest companions were already tucking into their plates, with Iron Bull ripping off haunches of ram. Trevelyan handed over the basket of trenchers, and he nodded in thanks. He was just about to reach for a piece of meat when out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman approach one of the other tables. The thick cloak hid most of her, but there was no mistaking the black hair and the red scarf tied around her wrist.

Before he knew it he was on his feet and pulling Halina Hawke by the wrist towards Josephine's office, his heart was hammering in his chest.

"Sebas—" The door slammed closed and suddenly she was wrapped tightly in his arms, her words cut off by his mouth crushed against hers.  The rest of his name turned into a sigh of relief.  She missed this, she missed him.  She closed her eyes and let herself feel the slight shake in his chest, and breathe in the smell of prophet's laurel in his soap. The memories of their earlier days flooded back. ' _You mean the world to me, Hawke. I promise you, nothing will come between us.'_

His words were punctuated by more kisses.  ”Halina. You're alive. You're here." After a while, he stepped back, but he still held onto her arms, as if she would disappear the moment he took his hands off of her. His bright blue eyes roamed her face, a hand went up to run fingers through her hair and cup her cheek. He was checking to see what changed her.

Hawke looked back at him without a sound, still trying to come up with the right words. _I'm so sorry_. His eyes still managed to make her feel like glass, that they saw straight through her.

And then, quietly, "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." He pulled her into his arms again, voice quivering. "Please, don't do that to me again." Tears started to well up in her eyes. "I will follow you to the Void and back just to be at your side."

That was her opening. "Be careful what you wish for, love." She tried to chuckle, but Sebastian tightened his hold and she thought better than to do that. He'd ask her about it later. Finally, "I'm so sorry."

That seemed to have set him in motion. She didn't say that unless she meant it, he knew. But he needed more than that. "Well, that's … a good start." Earlier, he thought that he would rage and lash out, but the mere sight of her turned the tides of his emotions and all he wanted to do was hold her. Sebastian stepped back again, still not letting go of her hand, and led her to one of the armchairs. "Tell me everything. Start anywhere, but leave nothing out."

Hawke looked around the room and saw Josephine's Antivan brandy, and went to pour herself a glass. This was going to be a long conversation.

***

Brienne Trevelyan blinked as she watched her guest of honor practically jump out of his seat and dash out of the main hall. Cullen, who was seated at her left, lightly touched her wrist to get her attention and leaned in to say in a quiet, low voice, “That was Lady Light.”

"Oh." _Well, this could be a while._ She wondered if Josephine noticed that her office was in use. It made her smirk a little, and she took Cullen’s hand in hers, squeezing it a little. Dorian followed her gaze, looked back at her and her hand, and smiled to himself. He'd tease her about it later, no doubt.

Trevelyan turned her attentions back to her supper and the table's conversation — ideas for operations at Caer Bronach. Besides the usual messaging, small armory, emergency supplies and quarters, Iron Bull was trying to convince Cullen to lend him an onager instead of a trebuchet. The commander chuckled politely, teasing Iron Bull with all sorts of things to hurl over the walls, but never agreeing to anything. And yet he was quick to refill Brienne's goblet throughout the meal — something everyone noticed, but politely avoided mentioning.

His eyes gleamed when he laughed, she noticed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up, but the left side more than the right.

When the meal was over, the Inquisitor found a page to ask the kitchen to set aside a small meal for her guests, just in case. Then she found herself leaning her ear against the wall of Josephine's office. Sadly, she could barely make out a word through the thick wooden door.

"Spying on your guests, Inquisitor?" she jumped at the voice behind her, and there was Cullen.  _How did he sneak up on me?_ with his eyes crinkled in amusement, their golden color gleaming. She straightened herself up, pulling an imaginary wrinkle from her tunic.

"That's Leliana's job," she still managed to jest. She looked back at the door again. "I just hope they're okay. Varric said that their relationship was … _different_."

“Well, if I remember how these nights downstairs go, you might be able to coax the story out of him," he said, pulling on his gloves. "Hopefully Cassandra isn't trying to kill him again.“  He offered her his arm.  “Shall we check?”


	3. What I thought and what I said

Halina Hawke sat down, closed her eyes, took a long drink of her brandy, and took a deep breath.  Sebastian pulled over a footstool that was far too short for his legs, but he didn’t seem to mind as he moved close to her chair and took her free hand in his, running his fingers over her skin.  There was a thin line of pale skin on her finger where a ring used to be.  Hawke wasn’t always so tan — it had to be the time she spent running, riding and hiding. 

“It was the intrusion, wasn’t it?”  He only heard about it afterward, when he stopped to change horses leagues away.

She nodded, and began. “ _Six guards_ , Sebastian.  In my home.  After that, I just couldn’t bear to stay there and let things continue to happen.  What if they got to you next?”  Her hands shook a little, and she took another drink.  “I’m not strong, love.  Clever sometimes, maybe, but not strong.”   

Sebastian tightened his hold, but said nothing.  He had left for Starkhaven earlier that day, and a rising tide of regret started in his chest.  If he had stayed, maybe things could have been different?  Would she have stayed?  Should he have taken her with him like he wanted to?

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and Sebastian sat up, and then got up to face the fireplace, his hands on the mantle.  It was her turn to watch carefully.

“So where were you this year?”

“Antiva.  Laid low for a while, then Rivain, for good measure.”  She drained her glass.  “For a while I tried to find who wanted me dead, but,” she scoffed, “turns out, it’s quite a list.  When I thought I had gotten far enough ahead of and maybe deterred them a bit, I … made my way down into Starkhaven.”  

Sebastian turned around to look at her.  “What?  When?”

“Harvestmere.”  That was when Goran’s health took a sharp turn for the worse.  Still, he couldn’t believe that she slipped right past him.  His hands clenched into fists.

“Then I went to Lothering.  I don’t know why.  Maybe I thought it would be the last place they’d look, after all the damage that’s been done to that place.  There’s a new house where I used to live.  Looks like happy folk.  Then Varric wrote me that Corypheus was behind all this, and so I started riding north.”

“So you’ve been away from Kirkwall all this time.”

“Yes.”

“Aveline and Bran will want a word with you.”

“That’s the least they deserve for all they’ve done.”  Hawke leaned back in her chair, thinking.  “I don’t think I want to go back.”  A beat.  “I don’t know.  There’s nothing for me there now.”

“Nothing?  They’re your people, Halina.”  

She shook her head.  “Are they?  I left to save them, Sebastian.  And now this … _Elder_ One.  I’ve got my hands full.”  Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the throne in the first place, and let herself fade into the background.

Sebastian walked towards her and sat back down on the stool.  “It’s not your fight, love.”  She had already fought so much.  He had lost count of all the times his heart dropped out of his chest at the sight of her bloodied and bruised and still getting up for more.  And if there was one thing he’d ever consider crediting the Abomination with, it’s that he was a legendary healer and he kept her standing.

Her eyebrows furrowed.  “Are you mad?  I didn’t kill him the first time.  _Alistair Theirin_ is _lost to the Fade_ because I didn’t kill him!”  Tears quickly welled in her eyes.  “I _have_ to go to Weisshaupt, Sebastian.”  She blinked, and the tears started down her cheeks.  Maker, she tried to stop crying.  With all that she had seen, it was a wonder she could anymore, really, but something about having Sebastian Vael there made her feel vulnerable again.

Sebastian took the empty brandy glass from her hands and set it on the floor before leaning forward off of the stool to kneel in front of her and reaching up to gently wipe the ears away from her cheeks with his thumb.  Then he touched his fingers to her chin, guiding her to look at him.  Her green eyes shone like emeralds in the firelight, and he said it without hesitation.  “Then I’ll come with you.”

She blinked and more tears fell from her eyes.  “No.”  And then, “I can’t.  I can’t make you risk your life again.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hawke reached to take his hands off her face and kissed his fingertips.  “No,” she repeated.  She closed her eyes and leaned forward, trying to get up, get away.  “I have to …” and she didn’t finish the sentence.

“Maker, Halina.  I’m not losing you again.”  Sebastian wanted to press her back into the chair, but knew better, and moved out of her way as she got up.  He stared at the space where she was, hands clenching into fists.  

She got to the door, and paused.  “I’m sorry, Sebastian.  But I can’t lose you, too.”  And then she was gone.

Sebastian slammed a fist into the brocaded chair cushion.  He couldn’t stand the thought of finally finding her, only to have her slip through his fingers.  He got up from his spot on the floor with Hawke’s empty glass in hand, and poured himself three fingers of brandy from Josephine’s decanter.   After he drank it far too quickly, he threw the glass into the fireplace.  

Winter in the Frostbacks would be at least another month.  He had to find a way to change her mind.  He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm himself, and told himself to start thinking.

***

Maryden’s voice slowly lilted through Herald’s Rest, and Brienne Trevelyan was stealing short glances at Cullen as they shared a quiet drink in the corner, watching to see if he’d react any further to her hand on his knee other than the blush and stammer she’d come to know.  

“ _Varric_ ,” a voice gritted out behind the Inquisitor.  Cullen bolted upright, ale spilling onto the table as his hand flew to his sword.  Brienne had jumped up as well, but let out her held breath as soon as she recognized the voice’s owner. 

“I … think he’s hiding from you.”

“For good reason.”  Hawke’s mouth was set in a thin line.  Once she caught her breath after escaping Josephine’s office, she looked for him in the main hall and found him missing from his fireside perch.  The tavern was her second guess.

Trevelyan swallowed and wondered if she should stall her.  Her eyes darted over to her commander’s, and saw that he was looking to her for any good ideas.

Slow footsteps clunked down the stairs.  “It’s alright, your Worship,” Varric sighed as he looked up at his Champion, and he gestured towards the door.  “I need to own this.”  Hawke huffed and walked out of the tavern, cloak swishing around her.  “At least if she kills me it won’t be as painful as the Seeker would make it.”  He shuffled towards the door, head heavy.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen, silently asking him to follow to see that that didn’t happen.  Then she headed back to the main hall to check on Sebastian, and found him still in front of Josephine’s fireplace.

The Starkhaven archer acknowledged her with a small nod, eyes never leaving the fire.  “Your Worship, may I humbly ask for your help?”

Brienne Trevelyan took a deep breath and leaned against the wall as Cullen did earlier.  “I’m listening.”

***

“ _Festus bei umo canavarum_ , Varric!  Why?!”  Hawke slammed a fist into a beam, and the horses in the stable next to her sputtered in surprise and discontent.  “You _knew_ this would be trouble.”

Varric pushed out his hands, motioning for her to keep her voice down.  “I had to, Hawke.  The man was in pain.”

“All these years and you still don’t get why I left, don’t you?”

The storyteller’s arms went up in the air as he whirled around in frustration.  “Fucking Void.  How about the bit where Cassandra _captured_ and then _interrogated_ me to find you and I didn’t cave?! What does it say about it when I was willing to tell _him_?”

Hawke winced.  She didn’t like being reminded of how she left Sebastian.  She turned to lean her head against the same beam she struck, and closed her eyes and tried to think.  Everything was crashing around her and she struggled to decide what to do next.

“Alright, then.  Tell me a story, Varric.  Tell me how I should fix this.”

He turned around to see her shoulders sag in defeat.  “Well, that’s a start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've taken so long to update. I had written myself into a corner and then could not find time or privacy to write. (And now let's see what happens when the opportunity for smut arises and I ... can't write it.)
> 
> Thank you, gentle readers, for your patience.

**Author's Note:**

> Some slight edits and changes from the original quickly-written version on the DAKM. May insert this story into "Offerings" if I ever get around to it or make it work. 
> 
> Smut/fluff levels TBD.


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